Page 57 of Stick Fight

He chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it. Not even close. And just like that, something twists in my stomach. There’s more to this. Something heavier than a throwaway line about staying single.

I want to ask, but I don’t. It feels like one of those scabs you don’t pick at, you just gently acknowledge it’s there and respect it. Still, from everything I’ve seen, Roman comes from a family full of love. So what happened to make him so sure love isn’t in the cards for him?

I glance at him and soften my voice. “For what it’s worth… I like your place. It has charm. And who knows, maybe one day youwillmeet someone. Someone who doesn’t care about square footage or zip codes. Someone who just wants you.”

He snorts, rolling his eyes like I’ve just told the most ridiculous joke. A beat later, he’s out of the car, jogging around to open my door. I scoop up the box of cinnamon rolls and the wine we picked up earlier, slipping my hand into his without thinking. It fits too well.

Roman guides me up the wide, welcoming walkway, and when he rings the doorbell, I catch myself tucking my hair behind my ear, nerves flaring. The door swings open almost immediately, and I’m met with a woman who’s every bit as radiant as I imagined. She’s a former fashion model. I’ve seen pictures of her, and also heard about her stalker. I shiver just thinking about it.

“You must be Gabby,” she says, all warmth and genuine curiosity.

I smile. “That’s me. And you must be Maeve.”

“I am. Come on in. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

From behind me, Roman groans. “Wow, no love for me, huh? Chopped liver over here.”

Maeve rolls her eyes, pulling Roman into a hug with a dramatic sigh. “Rookies,” she teases. “Always need the most attention.”

I laugh, instantly liking her. She’s got that rare kind of ease, the kind that makes you feel like you’ve known her forever after five minutes. She releases Roman and raises a brow. “Better? Feeling appropriately adored now?”

He grumbles something under his breath, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth gives him away. Watching him with her, I can see just how tight knit this group is. There’s history, loyalty, real affection here. It’s… beautiful. And something deep inside me twists at the sight of it.

“Roman, I’m in the kitchen,” Tanner calls out, no doubt to give Maeve and me a minute alone.

“Go,” Maeve adds, nudging Roman inside.

“At least someone here’s happy to see me,” he mutters as he disappears down the hall.

Maeve turns to me, eyes twinkling as she gestures to the goodies in my hands. “You really didn’t have to bring anything. But…” She pauses and points at the box. “Are those what I think they are?”

“If you’re thinking cinnamon rolls, then yes. And thank you for having me.”

“You’re already my favorite.” She beams, accepting the box like it’s a treasure chest. “Let’s go open that wine and sneak a taste before the guys devour them.”

I follow her toward the kitchen. “Is Stella still up?”

“Oh yes,” Maeve sighs. “She’s inherited her dad’s boundless energy. The bedtime battle is real, and she’s not even in her terrible twos.”

We step into the kitchen, and there she is, little Stella in her highchair, curls a mess, cheeks sticky, and babbling away at a piece of cereal like it just told her a funny story. The moment her big eyes land on me, she quiets… then lets out a happy squeal.

“Hello, Stella,” I coo, stepping closer. “You are just the cutest little beauty.”

“More like a cranky beauty,” Tanner laughs, handing Roman a beer with one hand while trying to reclaim a spoon from Stella’s tight little fist with the other. “Nice to see you again, Gabby. And, wait, are those from TheNook?”

“They are,” Maeve says, grinning as she sets the box down. “Didn’t you already inhale one this morning?”

Tanner shrugs, completely unbothered. “I believe in supporting local businesses… repeatedly.” He tugs Maeve into his side and gives her a playful smack on the backside, which earns a squeal from her and a head shake from Roman.

I just smile, even though something stings a little behind it. Their easy touch, the warmth in their banter, the kind of intimacy that doesn’t try too hard—it just is. It hits me then. That’s what I never had with Cass. Not even close. It was all curated moments, filtered emotions, and surface-level connection. This? This is real.

And maybe I’m not ready for real, not yet. But if I ever go down that road again… I’m not settling for less than this.

Not ever again.

“Get a room,” Roman grumbles with mock disgust, just as Stella—clearly his tiny nemesis—scoops up a soggy handful of cereal and launches it right at him.

With a splat, it hits his chest.

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